


I Don't Like the Quiet (That's Why You Got Invited)

by goldfishspleen



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Mix of book and movie canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 18:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldfishspleen/pseuds/goldfishspleen
Summary: Beverly Marsh needs a smoke and maybe some cheering up from her old smoke buddy. But their reuinion dinner's left him a little short on good chucks.





	I Don't Like the Quiet (That's Why You Got Invited)

In the middle of dinner, Beverly stood up from her chair abruptly, interrupting the side conversations happening at the table. Everyone looked at her with surprise. Richie felt grateful. He was three shots into the evening and sitting next to Eddie still felt like a cheese grater on his soul. It wasn't a fine one either--this one took great big chunks that fell on a pile at his feet, like the kind that his mother sometimes used to grate potatoes or zucchini. Also, he was just getting drunk enough that hearing about his companion's WebMD habits was legitimately stressing him out. 

Bev pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and shook it in the air as if it had all the answers. "I need a smoke break." She turned her gaze toward Richie with a particular smile. She needed a break and a smoke more than a smoke break per se. "Rich, you wanna bum a smoke like old times?"

He stood up just as abruptly as she did, but he couldn't glide as smoothly as her. His thigh bumped the table and caused a loud clanging of upset dinnerware. Thankfully, nothing tipped over. He stood ramrod straight and saluted poorly with the wrong hand. "Yes, ma'am! Lead the way, ma'am!" The Soldier was not an impressive or oft used voice given how basic it was, but it got a chuckle out of her. He'd count that as a win.

She led the way out of their private seating and toward the front door. Her red hair waved at her shoulders. The image of a bouncing orange ponytail slid into focus in the forefront of his mind. This whole memory thing was a trip. Things kept trickling in, triggered by the most seemingly insignificant stimuli. He wondered if this was what dementia felt like.

Once outside she leaned onto the restaurant's siding. Quickly, a cigarette found its way between her lips. With the way her hands shook, it took three tries for her lighter to ignite. She passed the pack and the lighter to him. He watched as she took a long drag and stared out into the dimly lit parking lot with a look that seemed to go a lot further. 

He crammed a cigarette into his mouth and struggled to light it himself without the same grace. Bev was always beautifully tragic. Richie, true to form as always, was a hot fucking mess. In that same vein, he also took a deep drag against his better judgement. He choked out every bit of smoke he inhaled with rasping coughs.

Bev's eyes widened and she barked out a genuinely surprised laugh. "Did you quit smoking?" she asked with just a little too much emphasis on the 'you.' 

Richie gave her a lopsided smile "Well, you know. Eddie wasn't wrong. There is so much cancer in the world because nerds like me and Beverly Marsh smoke so much." 

Her eyes softened, but he didn't see it. He took a much more shallow drag of his cigarette this time--the kind he used to take his first couple of times with a cancer stick. This wasn't his first rodeo, but he'd been off the horse for quite some time. Chewed a truly impressive amount of winterfresh flavored gum in the fifteen years between now and his last finished pack, though.

"He said that?" Her voice was as soft as her eyes.

Suddenly the pavement in front of his shoes seemed utterly fascinating. "You know it's funny," he mumbled, still examining a small crack separating textured gray rock. "A real gas. I didn't remember that until just now."

His arm around Eddie's shoulder, the summer heat beating down on them, the smell of tall grass and wet dirt...

These things you didn't just forget, but he sure did. What else couldn't he remember? It wasn't just the summer that had disappeared from his accessible mind. He forgot Bill altogether, and he'd been friends with Bill the longest. He forgot Eddie, and he'd been…

Beverly was smoking like the old pro she was, arms crossed over her chest. She stared at him with a strange expression. Looking at her, his contacts itched painfully, but this time he knew why.

He could remember that back in the day, like Eddie, she had a penchant for shorts that didn't cover much of her thighs. But for her, every inch of exposed skin meant maybe revealing bruises in various stages of healing. And why not? She'd been too young to feel much shame about it. Not that she should. Daddy's beatings weren't actually her fault, after all. 

It seemed she didn't carry that lack of shame into the future. It was an awfully warm night for that jacket. Every time she moved the sleeves pulled up off some finger shaped bruises on her wrist. She said all nice things about her husband at dinner, though. All pretty, nice, sweet things. 

He would ask, but she wouldn't say anything until she was good and ready. Maybe she thought the same thing watching his miserable ass stares at his conversation partner with the WebMD problem. But hadn't their smoke breaks always been more fun than this? Hadn't they both been in stitches every time? He could almost hear their high pitched preteen giggles for a brief second. 

Why weren't they having fun?

He wiped his face with the hand that wasn't holding the cigarette. There was something sobering about the time loop they were all caught in. That summer he had often wondered how much they really made their own decisions. 

Tic tock goes the clock. 27 years worth of tics and yet...

"The real zinger. The punchline, I guess. We all got away from Derry, I mean, except Mike. But we all got away, you know? But we didn't because as far as I can see, we all have the same damn problems. Nothing's changed. That's really funny. Chuckalicious, even."

He didn't even crack a smile. She stared back out into the parking lot with her miles away eyes. "Beep beep, Richie," she sighed humorlessly.

"Yep." He popped the 'p' loudly. 

Neither of them smoked for the long, silent minute that seemed to stretch on for days, full of conversations they could be having but weren't. He hated this, and he was pretty sure she did to. This was a mistake. He dropped his cigarette and put it out with his foot.

"Rightio!" He announced, clapping his hands together. "I'm going to say 'fuck it, let's get some desert.' How's that doing for you, my dear?"

She smiled a real Beverly Marsh smile, and he held his elbow out for her to take. She giggled and threaded her arm through his. If her eyes looked a little wet, he didn't say anything. If he was shaking just a little, she kept the word mum. "Sounds delightful, darling" she answered back. They both plastered on the good humor, but Rich couldn't think of a single joke. Not a one. 

'Fuck it,' Beverly thought.


End file.
